


Lady's Baby

by Madame (McKay)



Series: The Monkees Soap Opera [6]
Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 05:36:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10915401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/Madame
Summary: Micky agrees to baby-sit a neighbor's child; Magdalene's infatuation with him deepens.





	Lady's Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 1998.

The knocking on the front door began just as Micky was pulling one of his long-sleeved striped shirts over his head, and he ignored it, assuming one of the others would answer. It was probably Babbitt wanting to scream about the rent being late again anyway, and Micky was in too good a mood to deal with Babbitt bringing him down.

He fingercombed his curls back into place, then pushed the shirtsleeves up to his elbows--and the knock came again. He scrunched up his face with mild annoyance, waiting and listening, but still there was no sound of pounding feet, no yells of “I’ll get it!” from either Peter or Davy. 

He glanced over at Mike's bed--no response _there_ either. Mike-the-non-morning-person was still burrowed under his covers, either deeply asleep or doing a very good job pretending to be so _he_ wouldn't be the one roped into getting up to answer the door either. 

Heaving an aggrieved sigh, Micky yanked open the bedroom door and leaned over the rail, peering downstairs, but there was no sign of any activity; he noticed that the beachside door was open, a sure sign Peter and Davy had gone out on the beach. Resigned to his fate, he hopped on the banister and slid down, landing with a plop in front of the door and reaching for the knob as he did. 

"Now look, Mr. Babbitt--” he began, wanting to forestall any confrontations before they could begin, but when he pulled the door completely open, it wasn't Babbitt who stood there. Instead, Micky came face-to-face with a pretty young blonde woman...who was holding a small child. 

"Mrs. Cathcart!" he exclaimed, smiling broadly when it sank in that his day wasn't about to be ruined by their truculent landlord. "Hi! How's it going?" 

"Hello, Micky," Jennifer Cathcart answered his smile with one of her own. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." 

"No, of course not!" he waved away the thought. "Come on in." 

She shook her head regretfully, shifting her young son to her other hip. "I can only stay a minute. Actually," and here her smile turned winning, bumping up her charm level a couple of notches, "I was hoping you boys could do me a favor." 

"Oh?" Micky replied, leaning on the edge of the door and swinging back and forth with it a little as he stood talking to her. "What's that?" 

"Well, my regular baby-sitter has the flu, and I need to run some errands today. I was hoping maybe you wouldn't mind watching Will for me." She paused, a pleading note suddenly entering her voice. "It would only be for a few hours. I can be back by two o'clock at the latest, and I'll pay you what I pay my baby-sitter." 

But she needn't have worried. If one of the others had answered the door, she might not have had such an easy time of it, but Micky was reaching out to take Will Cathcart from her before she even finished her sentence. He liked children in general, and Will was not only one of the cutest kids he'd ever seen--white-blond hair and cornflower blue eyes, which he'd already learned to use to his advantage--but he was smart too, and Micky enjoyed stopping to play with him for a few minutes when he saw Will and Jennifer out in their front yard. 

"Sure we will!" he exclaimed as Will stretched out his dimpled arms to be received. "No problem. We'll take good care of him." He cradled the little boy in both arms, holding him against his chest so that they were almost nose-to-nose. "You remember me, dontcha, Will? You remember Micky?" 

"Kiki!" Will squealed, giggling as he grabbed two handfuls of Micky's hair, then he leaned forward and began gumming Micky's chin, leaving a generous trail of spit in his wake. 

"He remembers," Micky said wryly, and Jennifer laughed. 

"I've got everything you'll need in this bag," she said, dropping the over-sized canvas bag she'd been carrying on her shoulder into Will's pram as she pushed it into the house. "His bottle, toys, books, diapers--" 

"Don't you worry about a thing," he assured her. "We'll be fine. Will's gonna have a great time hanging out with us guys. Say bye-bye to Mommy, Will," he instructed. "Bye-bye, Mommy!" 

Will stopped drooling on Micky's chin long enough to twist around and open and close his fingers two or three times at his mother, who grinned and waved back. 

"Have fun," she said as she turned to leave. "Thanks, Micky--I really appreciate this," she called one last time over her shoulder, and Micky nodded in acknowledgment since his hands were full and he couldn't wave. 

"See you later!" 

He closed the door and carried the little boy over to the couch, settling him in his lap as he sat down; Will immediately became fascinated with a button on the upholstery and rolled off Micky's lap so he could begin trying to pry it off. 

"So what d'you want to do first?" Micky asked conversationally while he watched the little boy purse up his mouth as his chubby fingers repeatedly slipped off the tightly sewn button. "Aside from tearing apart our couch. You want to read a story?" 

Will glanced up at him, his round blue eyes filled with curiosity. "Tory?" 

"Yeah, a story," Micky nodded, standing up and rummaging through the bag Jennifer had left in search of Will's favorite books. "A-ha!" he exclaimed, pulling out a battered copy of one of Dr. Seuss' books and holding it up for Will to see. 

"Tory!" Will shrieked, forgetting the upholstery button and stretching out his hands for the book. 

"Okay, I guess that means you approve," he said, sitting down again, and this time, Will crawled into his lap without being asked. " _The Cat In The Hat_ ," Micky read on the cover, then he flipped it open to the first page and began reading. 

"Ca," Will informed him solemnly, pointing to the tall black cat in the strange-shaped striped hat, and Micky nodded and smiled back. 

"That's right!" he said encouragingly. "That's a cat. Where's his hat? Can you show me his hat?" 

Will pointed to the red and white striped hat, then shrieked with laughter as Micky made a huge fuss over him getting it right. They were making so much noise together that Micky didn't even hear the front door open and close, thus he wasn't aware that he had a larger audience when he began to read again, giving each character a different voice and infusing his tone with as much liveliness as he could. 

That is, until he felt a pair of arms slip around his neck and heard a distinctly feminine chuckle in his ear. 

He glanced up, startled, twisting to look over his shoulder to see Isabel smiling down at him; Will pounded the open book with the flat of his palms, burbling his protest at being abandoned, and Isabel reached out to smooth her hand across Will's silky pale hair. 

"I see you have company," she remarked. 

"Yeah," Micky replied, letting Will grab his index fingers and wave them around to keep him occupied. "Mrs. Cathcart's baby-sitter got sick, so Will's staying with us today." 

"Oh, _really_?" Micky could hear the raised eyebrow in her voice without actually having to look at her. "What did your room-mates have to say about that?" 

"Um..." He hedged, focusing on Will, who was blowing spit bubbles and cooing to himself while the grown-ups talked over him. "Well--ah--Peter and Davy are out on the beach, and Mike's not up, so..." 

"So they don't know yet," she finished for him, shaking her head. "Well, well, well... _This_ should be interesting." 

"Tory!" Will demanded, and Isabel laughed softly. 

"He knows a good story-teller when he hears one," she said, her voice laden with affection. "You've got a voice _made_ for reading children's stories, little brother." 

"Indeed you do," came a new voice, adding its assent, and Micky whirled to see Magdalene Bennett standing at the end of the couch, watching the other three with her usual somber, dispassionate expression. 

"Oh, hi, Mags," he greeted her carelessly. "I didn't see you there. Thanks. Hey, Izzy--you mind watching him? I'll go tell Mike you're here." 

"Sure," she agreed readily, scooting around the couch and dropping down next to him. "Hi, Will, you want to talk to me for a minute?" she invited, holding out her hands to him, and Will eagerly lunged out of Micky's lap, throwing himself into her arms. 

"Typical!" Micky teased, ruffling the child's hair as he rose to his feet. "Forget your buddies as soon as a pretty girl comes along! Bad news, little guy--she's taken." 

"Tay," Will burbled, beaming up at Isabel with his most irresistible smile, and Micky could practically _see_ her melting under its sunny influence. 

"Uh-oh," he laughed as he headed up the stairs. "I'd better warn Mike he's got competition from a younger man!" 

Mike was still in bed when Micky eased the door open and peeked around it; he briefly considered waking Mike up in his usual manner--i.e. yelling his name at top volume while shaking the mattress in a credible imitation of a 4.5 earthquake--but he decided against it given the news he had to impart. 

Instead, he nudged Mike's shoulder lightly, waiting for some sort of response, but there was none forthcoming from under the covers; Mike remained buried beneath his pillow without moving or making a sound. 

"Mike--" he called in his normal tone of voice, shaking Mike's shoulder harder. 

The pillow raised fractionally, and a noise that could loosely be translated as "what?" issued from beneath. 

"Hey, Mike, what do you think of kids?" 

"I think they ooze weird stuff, and they smell funny." 

"Oh." Micky covered his mouth with one hand in a vain attempt to stifle the giggle that rose to his lips. "Well, too bad ‘cause we're baby-sitting Will Cathcart until two o'clock." 

There was a prolonged silence from beneath the pillow, then, "I'll be over at Isabel's until two-fifteen." 

"That's gonna be kind of lonely since she's over _here_!" Micky declared. 

Mike lifted his pillow just enough to fix his room-mate with a questioning--but sleepy--look. 

"She's _here_?" 

"Yep!" Micky informed him cheerfully, enjoying watching his friend's discomfort more than he would ever admit. 

"She's not _bondin_ with the kid, is she?" 

"She was holding him when I came up here," Micky replied, trying to school his features into an appearance of solemnity and failing miserably. 

"Ah, sh--" But the rest of Mike's muttered invective was muffled by his own pillow and Micky's delighted laughter. 

~*~*~ 

Micky came downstairs just in time to hear Isabel ask Magdelene if she wanted to hold Will, and he shook his head slightly, wondering why Izzy was even bothering. Miss Magdalene Bennett didn't strike him as the type of girl who liked kids very much--thus he was surprised to see her accepting Will from Isabel, cradling him in her arms easily as if she were accustomed to handling small children. Maybe she'd worked as someone's nanny before Izzy's grandmother hired her, he thought idly. 

Will immediately reached up and pulled off her black horn-rimmed glasses; Micky stretched out one hand, half-expecting her to rebuke Will sharply, but again she surprised him by gently prying her glasses out of his tiny fist, folding them and tucking them safely away in the pocket of her drab grey tailored jacket. Will grinned at her and playfully grabbed her nose; Isabel laughed, and even Magdalene smiled a little, diverting him from her nose by sitting down and letting him play horsie on her knee. 

Micky lingered on the last step, watching the two girls coo over the little boy; without Will's hand in the way, he could see Magdalene's face clearly, and now that they were no longer hidden behind her glasses, he realized she had the clearest, deepest emerald eyes he'd ever seen before. And her smile... 

He shook his head abruptly to clear it, amazed at himself for harboring such thoughts about her even for two seconds. A pair of pretty green eyes and a cute smile weren't enough to make him forget what a sober-sided Miss Prim she was. Shoot, he thought scathingly, even Mike and Isabel knew how to let their guards down and act silly once in a while, but he doubted she'd ever loosened up in her entire life. She seemed the kind of girl who would look down her long, straight nose at anything she deemed undignified--which would probably encompass a _lot_. 

No, he wanted a livelier girl, one who knew how to laugh and have fun. _Not_ someone who'd constantly bring him down. _Not_ a girl like Magdalene Bennett. 

He heard the bedroom door open and close, and he moved out of the way when a glance over his shoulder revealed Mike loping down the steps, still smoothing his black tee shirt down his chest and stomach. Isabel had reclaimed Will by that point and was engrossed in a game of peek-a-boo, making him laugh and squeal as he wriggled on her lap and clutched her fingers, trying to pry them away from her face. 

Mike stood poised at the base of the stairs, and it was all Micky could do not to sneak a glimpse at him; he was dying to know how Mike was going to react to seeing his girlfriend turning maternal, and fortunately, he didn't have long to wait. 

"You're not gettin any ideas, are you?" came the lazy drawl from just behind Micky's shoulder. 

Faking a casual air, Micky moved to lean his back against the rail so he could watch both of them simply by turning his head; from his new vantage point, he could see Mike standing with his arms folded across his chest, his expression mostly amused but slightly wary. 

Isabel tore herself away from Will long enough to smile and shake her head with affectionate exasperation. "Don't worry," she said, returning her attention to Will. "This is cutest, sweetest little pumpkin I've ever seen," she said in a lilting tone. "But I still like them returnable," she added in the same baby-talk voice. "Yes, I do! I like to give them back to their real mommies!" she said, tickling Will and sending him into a paryoxm of giggles. 

And Micky had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud at Mike's quiet, "good." 

~*~*~ 

Magdalene watched as Micky and Isabel wallowed on the floor with Will, rolling a ball around with him, laughing and clapping their hands over his every successful attempt to get the ball where he wanted it to go. The child flourished under their effusive praise, clapping his soft palms together and grinning merrily at them both. 

Mike, she noticed, retreated to the kitchen table and hid behind the morning paper; she settled herself on the chaise, perching on the edge with her hands folded neatly in her lap as she gazed at Micky, taking the opportunity to study him in detail since he was completely engrossed in the child and not paying the slightest bit of attention to her at all. 

Isabel laughed and talked with him so easily, she thought with a twinge of envy even though she knew they considered each other adopted siblings. The mere fact that Isabel had the freedom, the right to tease, to touch him as she wished was enough...Magdalene could scarcely imagine such a thing--with Micky or anyone else, for that matter. She'd never known such casual intimacy. She'd never felt so uninhibited around another person in her life. 

She was spared more of that melancholy train of thought by the abrupt arrival of the other two room-mates; lifting her gaze to the beach-side door where they came bustling in scattering sand and salt water with every step, she watched, noticing the moment when Peter's eyes lit up as he saw their guest. He hurried over to the small group on the floor, plopping down next to Isabel and smiling broadly at Will. 

"Hey, little guy!" he said cheerfully. "What're _you_ doing here?" 

Shrieking with glee, Will chased after his ball while Micky explained to Davy and Peter what was going on; Peter seemed delighted, and Davy laughed, then began chasing Will, making scary monster noises and causing the child to shriek with glee at the new game. 

On the other side of the room, Will tripped over his own feet and tumbled to the floor; immediately three adults rushed to comfort him as he rolled onto his back, rubbed his forehead and exclaimed, "Owie!" 

"Oh, did you hurt yourself?" Isabel crooned, examining the injured area for any sign of blood or swelling. 

"Owie," Will repeated, scrunching up his face, but he didn't cry. 

"C'mon," Peter said, scooping him up in his arms and depositing the little boy on his shoulder. "Let's get some pudding. You want some chocolate pudding?" 

"Pudn!" Will agreed, a smile wreathing his face once again, and Peter galloped to the fridge, deliberately bouncing, making Will laugh and clutch Peter's hair tightly. 

The resulting mess--on Will, on Peter, and on the couch--provoked grimaces of distaste from the skulker in the kitchen, but the others didn't seem to mind in the least. 

It was almost a domestic scene, Magdalene thought, feeling her heart wrench for the second time in one day. Something she'd seen countless times before, and once again, she wasn't a part of it. Once again, she was an on-looker, a by-stander. Not a participant. 

And for the first time in longer than she cared to remember, Magdalene regretted that she was the outsider. She wanted to belong to this little group; she wanted to be one of them, to be accepted as freely and easily as they accepted one another. There was love here--of varying kinds and degrees--and she could feel it. But none of it was directed at her. It flowed around her, past her--but not through her. 

Tears stung her eyelids, and she blinked them back forcefully as she rose to her feet. 

"Isabel," she said, and her room-mate glanced over her shoulder. 

"Magdalene?" The other girl jumped up, peering at her with a look of concern. "Are you okay? You look--" 

"I'm fine," she interrupted before Isabel could finish that thought. "I'm going next door for a while. I'll be in my room if you need me." 

"Okay, sure. See you later." Isabel nodded, gave her one last shrewd, peircing look, then sat down on the floor with Will again. 

Despite her better judgment, despite every instinct that screamed it was a mistake, Magdalene took the steps forward that would close the distance between herself and Micky, who was also sitting cross-legged on the floor with Will in his lap as they played Pattycake. 

"I'll see you later, Micky," she said quietly, so quietly that she wasn't certain he'd even hear, and--impulsively--she reached out her hand, almost but not quite touching the soft brown curls that were a whisper away from her fingertips. 

"Okay, Mags," he answered, not so much as glancing at her over his shoulder. "Say bye-bye to Mags, Will! Bye-bye!" 

Will smiled up at her and opened and closed his fist at her; she waved back, then dropped her hand to her side once more. 

One last backwards glance before she shut the door revealed that no one was watching her leave; no one, in fact, seemed to notice. 

But that was nothing new. 

She closed the door with a quiet click and left with the sound of laughter and friendly conversation still ringing in her ears. 

~*~*~ 

Magdalene plodded down the steps, staring at the floor, so immersed in her own thoughts that she was scarcely aware of the music coming from the living room until she was almost there. She snapped her head up, arrested in her tracks by Janis Joplin's bluesy wail, followed by the sound of a distinctly male voice: Mike's. 

She froze, startled. She didn't know Mike and Isabel were back over here; she hadn't heard them come in. She was only half-way down the steps; bending over a little would allow her to peek into the living room just enough to make sure she wasn't about to intrude on anything, and she was glad she did. 

Isabel had clasped Mike's hands and was walking backwards toward the expanse of bare hardwood floor between the couch and the double doors leading out to the terrace; he was giving her a dubious half-smile, but he was allowing himself to be led nonetheless. 

"Now you're sure Magdalene isn't gonna walk in--?" he asked. 

She could see Isabel nod, and although she couldn't see her room-mate's face, she could tell by her voice that she was laughing. 

"I'm sure," Isabel assured him. "Don't worry. When she holes up in her room like that, it practically takes an earthquake to get her out again. Your secret is safe." 

Magdalene almost turned and left then. She knew a cue when she heard it, but the part of her that had grown used to watching life (rather than participating in it, another inner voice answered harshly) was curious enough to make her stay just long enough to see what was going to happen. 

The first song ended, another began, and she recognized the solo guitar intro to "Summertime," but that gave her no clue about what was to come. Did Isabel plan to ask him to play along? To sing? 

No sooner had the question formed in her mind when the answer was forthcoming. Mike slipped his left arm around Isabel's waist, pulling her close, and held out his right hand for her to take, which she did; instead of holding their joined hands away from their bodies in a typical dance position, however, he rested them against his chest. Isabel wrapped her free arm around his waist and nestled against him, obviously enjoying the closeness and simply being in his arms. 

Magdalene studied the pair with an objective eye, for once looking at Mike as a man rather than as Isabel's boyfriend. Dressed as he was in jeans and a black tee shirt that either he hadn't bothered to tuck in or Isabel had pulled out, standing barefoot as Isabel was--probably to decrease the disparity in height! she thought with a silent chuckle--and his jet-black hair touseled, Magdalene could see why Isabel found him so attractive. He wasn't conventionally handsome, but there was something appealing about him nonetheless; even that long nose which was slightly too big for his face had its charm. 

But personally she preferred guys who were less somber-faced, more filled-out, more out-going...More like Micky, she sighed ruefully, thinking of his dancing almond-shaped eyes, his infectious laughter, his irresistible smile, those tempting curls that begged for a girl to tangle her fingers in them... 

They began slowly, moving to the beat; she could see Isabel's hips swaying smoothly back and forth, but her view of Mike was blocked. She'd noticed he'd been the focus of teasing about not dancing, and if the simplicity of their movements was any judge, she knew why: he wasn't that good. 

"Summertime..." 

Janis' raspy moan flowed through the room, and Mike began to lead Isabel in a more complicated series of steps; releasing her so that there was perhaps six inches of space between them, he guided her around their small dancefloor at a leisurely pace, and she followed him with the ease of long practice. Magdalene watched with growing appreciation, revising her initial impression. He _was_ good. Very good. But in a way that would appear out of place in a modern club. Where had he picked _that_ skill up, she wondered. 

"Your daddy's rich..." 

Then, to Magdalene's surprise, he upped the ante even more, sending Isabel away from him, and she executed a graceful slow-motion spin; then he pulled her close again, twisting her at the last minute so that she wound up with her back to him. He wrapped both arms around her, bending over to place a lingering kiss on her neck as they swayed in place for a moment. 

"So hush little baby, don't you cry..." 

Another nudge, and she moved out of his arms again; the single guitar started up its complicated riff, he planted both hands on either side of her waist, and she rested her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her straight up just enough so that she could lower her head and kiss him. 

The music rose, intensified--and the dancers responded. He lowered his arms, but instead of letting her two feet be put back on the floor, Isabel locked her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist; he shifted one arm so that it supported her behind, slipping the other around her back to steady her, and all the while, he stayed with the beat of the music. One kiss blurred into another, and it wasn't long before the dance of bodies was mirrored by a dance of tongues-- 

\--And Magdalene hastily retreated upstairs again, shutting her bedroom door as quietly as she could so she wouldn't alert them to her interfering presence. 

Oh, it wasn't _fair_! 

Why couldn't that be _her_ in someone's arms? 

In _Micky's_ arms? 

Her traitorous mind filled with images of Micky's face close to hers, his expression tender and loving--all his love directed at _her_. She imagined the first touch of his lips...A low burning coiled in the pit of her stomach as she imagined his kiss and how it might feel to hold him, to-- 

_No_! 

She wouldn't torture herself like this! 

_Time to face the truth, Magdalene Elizabeth Bennett_ , she thought grimly as she stalked to the mirror that hung over her dresser and faced herself squarely, not flinching from the image revealed there. 

She saw herself as she was. A plain young woman with heavy glasses, too-pale skin, and freckles. Her fine-boned features were made stark and almost harsh by the tight bun she scraped her hair into every day. Her clothes were shapeless and drab. 

There was nothing about her that could possibly tempt any young man. She wasn't pretty, and she didn't sparkle like other girls. She didn't know how to act out-going and charming. Those traits had been quelched long since, and she had no idea how to recall them now. 

_He doesn't know you exist_ , she thought, aiming a vicious look at her own reflection. _You saw how he acted today. You could live or die, and he wouldn't even know or care_. 

Her mind filled with images of the scene she'd just witnessed; her soul yearned to experience the kind of bond she saw wrapped around Isabel and Mike. She felt like a voyeur, and for the first time, it sickened her; she was tired of just watching. She'd watched other people all her life; she'd spent countless hours just watching unfolding scenes before her but never participating. She was always the audience, the unheard and barely noticed spectator. 

And now she wanted someone to tickle her, to tease her, to kiss and cuddle and dance with her the way Mike did with Isabel. 

She wanted someone to love her as much as she loved him. 

She wanted Micky Dolenz. 

~*~*~ 

Micky glanced up when he heard the front door slam, barely refraining from cringing when he saw Mike standing there, surveying the chaotic scene with his usual calm dispassion. Micky could only imagine what he was thinking, however, and _he_ \--as well as Peter and Davy--was almost at his wits' end himself. 

Will had been crying for the better part of fifteen minutes--non-stop, mind you--and none of them had any idea what to do to calm him down. They had tried feeding him, changing him, playing with him--nothing worked. The high-pitched wails grew louder and louder and more and more heart-rending until Micky was about to tear his hair out in frustration, and Peter's face was starting to crumple as if _he_ were about to start crying as well. 

"Looks like you got yourselves a little problem," Mike drawled, one corner of his mouth lifting into something that was not quite a smirk. 

Micky tossed him a "thanks for stating the obvious" look as he held Will against his shoulder, patting his back and trying to make soothing noises, but the fretful boy would have none of it; he kept screaming, hitting notes Micky hadn't been able to reach since adolescence, and he was impressed by the child's lung power. 

"Here." 

Mike walked over and held out both hands, and Micky stared at him dubiously. Mike hadn't shown any interest in Will since his arrival, so what was he planning to do now? Toss him out the window? 

"Can't you see the kid's worn out?" Mike continued, his voice laden with exasperation as he gestured for Micky to hand him over. "Give him here." 

Still Micky hesitated, wondering how in the world Mike of all people could succeed where he and Peter had failed. 

Mike gave him a long, sardonic look. "Just ‘cause I don't make a fool of myself over young'uns like you guys do doesn't mean I don't know anything about em," he said as if he'd read Micky's mind. 

Well, Micky thought with a mental shrug, it was worth a shot. Nothing _he_ had tried had worked, so... 

Reluctantly, he passed Will over to Mike, and Will actually stopped yelling when he realized he was face-to-face with someone new. He stared at Mike for a moment, tears beaded on his lashes, his flushed cheeks wet and hot--and then he began howling again. 

Mike carried him over to the rocking chair on the far side of the room and sat down, cradling the boy--not on his shoulder as Micky expected--but on his chest as he began rocking slowly back and forth. Will resisted at first, squirming and struggling, his tiny fists flailing as he persisted in letting the entire neighborhood know of his unhappiness; Micky was about to step in and say that it wasn't working, Will wasn't calming down--when suddenly Will yawned. 

His frantic movements gradually slowed, and he began to relax, stretching his little body along the length of Mike's torso as they contined to rock; his eyelids drooped, and his cries became weaker and spaced further apart until finally they ceased altogether. 

In the blissful silence that followed, Micky heard a new sound and realized that Mike had been humming to Will the entire time. He wondered why Mike hadn't just sung aloud, and then it struck him that humming would create stronger vibrations, and that was what helped in part to soothe the child. He grinned broadly just as Mike glanced up at him. 

"How'd you know?" Micky asked, and Mike shrugged. 

"Mama always used to say this worked on me," he replied quietly. "Seemed worth a try." And then he resumed humming again, not stopping until Will was sound asleep. 

Behind them, the front door opened and closed, and they both looked up to see who was coming in. It was Isabel this time, and she didn't bother to hide the mischievous grin that sprang to her lips when she saw Mike. 

" _Now_ who's getting ideas?" she teased as she walked over and stood next to the rocking chair, resting one hand on Mike's shoulder as she gazed down at the sleeping child. He merely gave her an "oh, please" look in return. 

Micky watched them silently, suddenly struck at the almost domestic tableau they presented. In that instant, he was certain that he would see this scene again, and when he did, the child would have black hair like its father and its mother's big brown eyes. 

~*~*~ 

Will was still fast asleep when Jennifer Cathcart arrived a few minutes before two o'clock; Micky pressed a finger to his lips to warn her as she walked in the door, pointing to the pram where Will now lay sprawled on his stomach, his thumb securely in his mouth. 

"He's asleep?" Jennifer asked, a note of amazement in her voice. "He usually puts up such a fuss about taking naps. That's why I said I'd come back early, so you boys wouldn't have to deal with it!" 

Micky turned to Jennifer with an admirably straight face. "Oh, he was no problem, Mrs. Cathcart." 

Mike let out a derisive snort, and Micky threw him a warning look as he added, "We had fun!" 

"Yeah!" Peter chimed in, smiling broadly at her as she began wheeling the pram out the door. "If you ever need us to babysit again, just let us know!" 

Behind him, Mike gave an "oh, _no_ ," look which Isabel caught, and she slapped Mike's stomach. 

"What are _you_ so worried about?" she asked tartly. "Right now the only way you could wind up a father is if I'm chosen to bear another messiah." 

"Right now?" he asked, bending low to whisper the question in her ear, but Micky was standing close enough to hear, and he perked up, watching with growing delight as a faint pink blush spread across Izzy's cheeks and nose. 

"You know what I mean," she whispered back. 

"No," Mike replied with an impish smile. "But we'll talk about it later." 

Micky quickly moved to the kitchen before he started laughing and alerted them that he'd been listening. Well, _that_ was an interesting twist, he thought, but perhaps not entirely unexpected. 

It had been just over a year since Isabel moved in next door; she and Mike had been together most of that time, and even though there had never been any mention of marriage or an engagement, Micky knew without a doubt that neither of them would ever look elsewhere again. They were together, and they were going to stay that way. 

And he was shocked to realize that he envied them. 

He enjoyed dating and having fun, and he was by no means ready to think about settling down and getting married and having kids of his own, but still, he wished he could experience the kind of closeness they shared. It must be nice, he thought wistfully, to have someone who knows you that well, to be that close to someone. He'd never met a girl who made him think of the future, of long-term commitment. None of the girls he'd dated made him feel as if he could open up and share himself with her completely. 

Would he ever find a girl like that? Who would love him and accept him as unconditionally as Isabel accepted Mike? And _she_ had a _lot_ of accepting to do! he thought with a silent chuckle. Well, maybe one day...Until then, he'd just have to be patient and wait. 

And try to forget that sometimes he felt a little lonely.


End file.
